ABOUT WOMEN
Facts sometimes get in the way when talking to children

By Christie Wilson
Advertiser Staff Writer

So we're driving home from Costco when out of the blue, during a rare truce, the teenager in the back seat says to her 9-year-old brother sitting next to her, "I love you."

Zoinks! I sat bolt upright in the driver's seat, waiting for the obligatory "psych!" punch line, but to my surprise, it didn't come.

"I love you, too," the boy replied. Pause. "Not in a sexual way, but like a friend."

Uh, thank you for that clarification.

Unlike Michael Jackson, my third-grader apparently knows the difference between sexual and nonsexual love.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I was in denial about my son's level of awareness. When we all sang along in the car to Shaggy's bouncy tune "It Wasn't Me," I convinced myself the boy really didn't know what they were doing on the bathroom floor.

It was easier to protect the firstborn from the naked truth. But with a six-year age difference between the two children, it's been difficult to insulate their interests or to find common ground. Inevitably, some of the teenager's more mature viewing, reading and listening material and lingo have seeped into her younger brother's world.

That's left me to explain some things that he's really too young to handle. He recently asked me about french kissing, and when I explained it, we both agreed it was totally gross. That was easy enough, but I had a harder time a few days later when he asked me what a virgin was.

It's going to get tougher as the questions get more explicit and require age-appropriate censorship and value judgments that may not be consistent with my own behavior.

I told my kids they don't have to be embarrassed to ask me about anything, and that I would always give them a straight answer — but I'm not sure I can live up to that promise.

One thing I've already learned is that it's not a good idea to try to gain trust on sensitive subjects or to bond with your kids by sharing horror stories from your past. They are in no way interested in your hard-earned wisdom. All they hear is the part where you did the bad stuff, not the part where it almost ruined your life and how you're trying to save them from the same heartbreak.

While rifling through some keepsakes, I made the mistake of showing my daughter my old high school report cards. Normally a solid student, I strayed in my junior year, dropping from a first-quarter "B" in chemistry to a "D" and flunking algebra.

That pretty much shot my credibility on that issue. Now when I grumble about a "B" on my honor student's report card, she's only too happy to throw my high school record back in my face.

And that was just about grades. No way am I going to "share" about sex, drugs/alcohol, the fake ID, the wrecked car and that little matter with the police.

As a parent, love means having to lie sometimes. Or at least fudge the facts.

Reach Christie Wilson at cwilson@honoluluadvertiser.com.